The Distant Temple
The ledger was wrong, and Elias Thorne knew it with the cold, precise certainty of a man who had spent twenty years ensuring that the numbers at St. Jude’s Charity added up to nothing more than a tidy sum of benevolence. It was a damp Tuesday in November, the kind that seeped into the bones of the old brick building on Holloway Street, and the air in the archives smelled of wet wool and the...
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